


Where There's Smoke, There's Fire

by OsirisApollo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College Student Sam Winchester, Doctor Castiel, Doctor Gabriel (Supernatural), Firefighter Benny Lafitte, Firefighter Dean Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nurse Meg Masters, Romance, Small Towns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 07:24:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15359274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsirisApollo/pseuds/OsirisApollo
Summary: ER doctor, Castiel Novak, lives a boring life outside of his job. He doesn’t have time for much else with such long hours and so little sleep. But all of that changes when the fire alarm in his condo forces him outside during the day, and he manages to embarrass himself in front of the hottest fireman he’s ever seen. Castiel is ready to chalk it up to a one-time disaster, but the universe seems to have other plans.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A day late, but I finally got this sucker posted! It has been an adventure!  
> I'll start out by thanking my team of not quite volunteers.  
> My wonderful beta [ Maskofcognito](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaskofCognito/pseuds/MaskofCognito), who color-coded my docs into a pride flag. Thank you so much for your love, support, and commas!  
> My gorgeous husband [Icarusinflight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarusinflight/pseuds/icarusinflight), who did the alpha reading on this story. Thank you for being the absolute best!  
> The fabulous [Halzbarry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halzbarry/pseuds/Halzbarry), who made sure I didn't change tenses in the middle of this. My first attempt at a present tense fic would have ended in disaster without you.  
> And last but not least [destimushi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi), who figured out how to make time to cheer me on and keep my spirits up, even while she was in the process of moving to a new house. And the one that helped me come up with the idea in the first place.
> 
> Next up is all the thanks and love I can possibly give to my artist [Foxymoley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymoley/pseuds/foxymoley)! I'm sorry I didn't get some of the chapters to you in time for you to be able to art of all them! Thank you so much for trying, though! Instead of the required one piece of art, I have so much, and I could not possibly be happier! Check out her other art on [Tumblr!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/tagged/foxyarts)

  


Castiel is dreaming. Even in his sleep, he can recognize that. 

He’s laying in a field surrounded by daisies so tall he has to look up at them from his current position. The sky is the perfect shade of blue. The sun is just far enough out of his sight to not be blinding.

But he knows that it’s all a dream because he’s barely seen the sun in years.

He tries not to let the awkwardness of knowing ruin a good thing, though. He’d like to enjoy this while he can.

There’s a gentle breeze that makes the daisies dance, although Castiel can’t feel it. He thinks about standing so he can watch the wind roll through the field, but it seems like too much effort. It takes him a moment to remember he’s dreaming and it would be no effort at all, but it’s too late.

The blaring of an alarm wakes him, and he groans heartily as he reaches over to smack the snooze button. The noise doesn’t stop. Why isn’t the noise stopping?

Squinting his eyes, he rolls onto his side to glance at the blurry red numbers displayed. It’s only a little after five pm. That noise can’t be his alarm. He doesn’t have to be at work until midnight, and there’s no way he set his alarm this early. He forces himself to sit up while he tries to work out what’s happening.

It takes him a full minute to realize the sound is coming from outside of his condo. It takes another to figure out it’s the fire alarm. He groans and buries his head in his hands. Can’t people wait until he’s at work before burning the place down?

The fire alarm protocol Castiel agreed to when moved in says that he’ll have to get out of bed. There’s a gathering place where they can check the residents and make sure everyone makes it out safe. At the time, it had seemed reasonable. But when he’s only gotten four hours of sleep since he finished his fourteen-hour shift, he wonders what they could do to him if he decides it isn’t worth getting out of bed.

Not that he can go back to sleep with the racket the fire alarms are making, anyway.

With a sigh of resignation, he stretches his arms above his head and points his toes, in an effort to get his blood flowing. The tug of action on his muscles pulls him further toward wakefulness, and he throws his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up.

As much as he doesn’t want to go outside in the cold because one of his neighbors probably threw water on a grease fire— or something equally inane— he also doesn’t want to be caught inside if there really is danger. The thought of being rescued by a hot fireman might be incredibly appealing, but the knowledge that he’d have to explain his stupidity in not evacuating turns that fantasy sour quickly.

Castiel isn’t naive enough to believe the fireman that rescued him would look nearly as good as the ones on his calendar, either.

He pulls on a pair of sweatpants from the floor, grabs a hoodie out of the closet and throws on the slippers he keeps next to the door for days when he wants to shuffle down to the mailboxes like a retiree. Within minutes he’s in the elevator on his way down to the meeting spot.

As soon as the elevator doors slide open at the ground floor, he’s greeted with the sight of five firefighters in full gear. The masks they’re wearing hide their faces, but his imagination fills in the smirk when one of them says: “In the event of a fire, you’re supposed to take the stairs.”

“I’d rather die than take the stairs,” Castiel deadpans back, and the men have a good chuckle as they make their way to the stairwell.

To be honest, he hadn’t really thought about taking the stairs. He knew that was part of the fire protocol, but luckily the firefighters had seemed more amused than annoyed to see him breaking the rules.

Once he makes it to the parking lot with the other residents, he finds himself a place on the curb, pulls his knees to his chest, throws his arms over them, and drops his head onto the makeshift pillow. He has no interest in socializing. He’s still hoping he’ll be able to fall back asleep, even after this adventure out into the cold.

Apparently, being outdoors with a chill in the air doesn’t affect Castiel’s ability to sleep, because the next thing he knows there’s a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. He sputters a little as the movement causes him to lose his balance and his legs extend to regain it. He accidentally kicks the person shaking him, but doesn’t feel sorry. Serves them right, after all.

“Come on, sleeping beauty. Time to go home.” The voice is deep and sexy, and wholly unfamiliar. It’s enough to shock him fully awake. 

Castiel’s eyes drift up to take in the man who’s partially holding him up by the shoulder, now that his knee pillow is gone.

Holy shit. He must still be dreaming. There’s no way a man this beautiful exists in real life. He’s sure he’s never seen eyes that green before. Or lips that full. Not on a man, at least. 

Castiel forces his attention away from the spattering of freckles that dot the man’s nose only far enough to notice the sweat across his brow and the hair pressed to his head. As if he’d been wearing a heavy hat or something. And that brings his attention down the rest of the man’s outfit.

That combination of heavy black and yellow canvas, paired with the handsome face before him can only mean one thing.

“It’s happened. I’ve finally died and made my way into fireman heaven.”

The beautiful man lets loose a startled little chuckle at that. “What?”

“Gabriel always said there was no such thing as fireman heaven, but I’ve proved him wrong haven’t I?”

The man is outright laughing now, hard enough that Castiel can’t tell if the hand on his shoulder is holding up Castiel or the heavenly fireman. It takes him a minute to calm, but when he does he’s smiling so hard Castiel can see all of his perfect white teeth. It’s a beautiful smile.

“There are paramedics here too if you’ve hit your head or something.”

It suddenly hits Castiel that he’s not dreaming. This is actually happening. This ridiculously good-looking fireman is really in front of him. And Castiel is making an ass out of himself. He’d blame it on sleep deprivation if he was planning on sticking around long enough to explain.

“Oh, god,” is all he manages before he hops to his feet, nearly bowling the guy over in his efforts to get out of there as fast as possible. He only gets a few steps before that voice calls to him again.

“Hey! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Castiel is so embarrassed he can’t even turn around to face the man. He just shouts out an “I’m fine!” —that doesn’t sound fine at all— and rushes into the building to escape.

Of all the foolish things he’s done while sleep deprived, this situation might be one of the worst. Embarrassing himself in front of one of his foremost fantasies come to life has to take the cake. He makes his way back to his bed only comforted by the fact that he’ll never have to see the man again.

[ ](https://ibb.co/ch4r6y)

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the amazingly wonderful [ Foxymoley!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/tagged/foxyarts)


	2. Chapter 2

 

The smell of burnt rubber pulls at Castiel’s consciousness as he blinks his eyes open. It takes a few seconds to figure out what’s happening.

The steering wheel in front of him is covered in a deflated white balloon that can only be his airbag. His seatbelt is clenched around his chest tightly, and with the evidence before him, it all comes rushing back.

He remembers the screeching of tires; the sound seemingly coming from all around him. When he’d glanced into his rearview mirror, it was just in time to see the front of the car behind him disappear. He knows he’d braced himself just as the sound of twisting metal made it to his ears, and he even vaguely remembers the feeling of being tossed forward a bit before his seatbelt had engaged.

Whatever followed was a bit of a blur, but he pieced together enough to know.

He’d been in an accident.

The sounds of his radio still playing brings him even more awareness, and he’s surprised to realize his foot is still firmly applied to the brake pedal. He moves the gear shift into park before releasing it.

Castiel’s mind can’t seem to focus on more than one thing at a time.

As soon as the car is in park, his thoughts shift to the pain across his chest. He knows enough about car accidents to figure that the pain is likely from the actions of his seatbelt holding him down as the momentum of the accident tried to throw him forward, so he’s not terribly worried about it. He does reach down to unbuckle it though, and the relief of releasing his chest from the vise evidently all he needs.

In the next blink his mind shifts to the pain in his wrist. When he lifts it to inspect, he doesn’t see any damage, and rubbing it doesn’t show any sign of breakage. It’s likely just sprained, and it may be uncomfortable for a while, but he’s fine.

Everything is fine.

Well, his car probably isn’t fine, but that’s a problem he can’t fix now, so he chooses to ignore it at the moment.

It hits him suddenly that there to be others involved in the crash, and with the knowledge he carries he feels a responsibility to check on them.

Castiel is a little startled when he pushes at the door and it doesn’t open. It takes a second to realize it must have been damaged in the crash, but he doesn’t let that deter him. He takes a deep breath and shoves at it harder, using his shoulder for extra leverage, and managing to get it open.

Pushing himself up onto his feet takes a little more effort than he thought it would, and as soon as he does his vision blurs. He reaches a hand out to steady himself on the car, and just breathes for a second. Perhaps getting out of the car wasn’t the wisest plan.

Suddenly, there are hands on his shoulders, steering him back into his seat.

“Take it easy there, buddy. Where do you think you’re going?” The voice that clearly belongs to the hands asks.

Castiel pinches the bridge of his nose in an effort to appease the pain now shooting through his head.

“I was just trying to check on them.” He mumbles weakly. He doesn’t even realize he’s probably not making any sense until the voice answers him.

“Well let’s let the paramedics worry about them, okay? I’m worried about you. What’s your name?” The voice sounds vaguely familiar.

“Castiel.” He manages to look up. It’s only polite to look a person in the face when you’re introducing yourself, after all. 

Oh god. It’s him! It’s that smoking hot fireman that he embarrassed himself in front of three weeks ago. 

Are there no other firemen in this town? Is this some kind of test? 

What are the chances of Castiel finding himself in the presence of firemen twice in one month? Multiply that by the chance of there being a hot one in the bunch. Multiply again by the chance that the same hot one would show up to both instances. The odds were astronomical. 

“Okay, Castiel. I’m going to do a couple of tests on you real quick, alright? We’re just going to make sure you’re okay until the paramedics can get over here.”

At least it seems as though the man doesn’t recognize him. He looks at Castiel as if he’s just another accident victim, and the cool relief that washes over Castiel actually manages to make his head feel a bit better.

“I’m fine,” Castiel says, firmly. 

The hot fireman raises a brow. “I think that’s for me to decide. Now, look right at my nose.” 

As soon as Castiel complies, he’s nearly blinded by a flashlight. He does his best to blink away the pain that follows. He’s never been on the patient side of this procedure, and he finds it’s not much to his liking.

“Sorry, I know your head is hurting.” Hot fireman says softly, patting Castiel lightly on the cheek as he hangs the light back onto his belt. He raises his hands, so they both face Castiel. “Alright, now push against me as hard as you can.”

Castiel rolls his eyes but does as he’s asked. He’s performed these tests a dozen times before, and it’s strange having the hot fireman in his usual place.

“You know, when someone gives you their name, it’s customary to return the favor,” he says.

The man looks up from where it looks like he’s trying to figure out how to test Castiel’s reflexes while both of his feet are firmly on the ground. His grin is one part shy, two parts cocky, and wholly arousing. “My name’s Dean.”

Dean. It’s such a plain name. Unextraordinary. It doesn’t fit at first, and Castiel processes the name while Dean continues his examination. It’s plain, but it’s also straight to the point. Castiel wonders if Dean was born in a small town, to small town people. Maybe they lived in the country. Maybe they had a little farm. Those are the kind of people that would name their kid Dean.

“You’re not from around here, are you Dean?”

“Nah, I’m from Kansas. Just moved out here so my brother could go to a fancy California college.”

Now that he’s said it, Castiel can hear the slight twang in his voice, and he’s picturing tractors and farmer’s tans and home-cooked meals. Now the name fits. And somehow, someway, Dean is getting even hotter.

Castiel might have a fireman calendar in his bedroom, but he has a cowboy calendar in his study.

He clears his throat and attempts to clear his mind. If he continues down this train of thought, he’ll end up making a fool of himself. Again.

“So which fancy California school did your brother decide to go to?”

Dean seems pleased by the question. “Stanford. Crazy kid is studying for his law degree.”

Castiel’s nose wrinkles before he can think better of it. A lawyer. As if the world needs another one of those. He immediately tries to school his face back to interest, but he's not fast enough. Dean notices his reaction and smirks. 

“You don’t like lawyers?” He jabs Castiel’s knee with the reflex hammer and nods at the jerk.

“They mostly cause problems in my line of work.”

Castiel is having a hard time concentrating on the conversation as Dean’s hand wraps around his leg, right above the knee. He gets another jab before Dean grins up at him again.

“Why? Are you a serial killer Cas?”

Castiel can’t help but laugh. It’s a little on the breathless side, and he hopes that Dean doesn’t notice. “I would think serial killers would be more afraid of the police.”

“You might have a point, there.” 

Their eyes meet and the moment seems frozen. God those eyes are beautiful. Who needs eyes that green? Models, maybe. Certainly not ridiculously hot firemen that are sitting much too close to Castiel. 

Dean seems to shake himself out of it. He rises, holding out one of his hands. “Do you think you can stand?”

Castiel analyzes himself. His headache is receding, and that was the only part that had been causing him any real pain. His wrist is a little sore, and he’s sure to have hellacious seat belt burn across his neck, but he feels fine otherwise. “I think so.”

“Let me help you up.”

Castiel clasps the offered hand, and Dean does nearly all the work. He even places a hand on the back of Castiel’s head and makes sure he doesn’t hit the car on the way out. It’s very sweet, and Dean is clearly very strong, and suddenly Castiel wishes he was sitting again. Not because he can’t stand—as predicted, he feels much better this time—but because he's having a hard time convincing his body not to show his arousal at the display of strength. 

Jesus, Dean barely had to do anything. He could probably just throw Castiel over his shoulder and carry him wherever he wanted to.

He really needs to stop with the fireman fantasies if he wants to survive this encounter without embarrassing himself again.

“I’ll walk you to the ambulance,” Dean tells him with a small smile, pressing a hand to the small of his back and leading him in the direction of the lights he can see flashing from the corner of his eye.

“I’m fine, Dean,” Castiel says, but he does nothing to actually dissuade Dean from accompanying him.

Dean’s hand doesn’t move, and Castiel is glad. “Well, these guys are going to give you a ride to the hospital anyway.” He indicates the paramedics gathering the other driver into the back of the bus. Castiel is relieved to note the other man doesn’t look like he took any more damage than he did.

“Good. That’s where I was headed, and I don’t think my car is going to get me there now.”

Castiel has never held fondness of ignorance, but the look of confusion that spreads across Dean’s face can’t be defined as anything but adorable.

“I’m a doctor,” He explains before Dean can ask.

He expects the confusion to leave Dean’s face, but he doesn’t expect it to light up like a child on Christmas morning.

“Oh-ho-ho! Do my ears deceive me?" Dean asks, smirking as if Castiel has just handed him the ammunition he’d been searching for. "Have I died and gone to doctor heaven?”

Castiel stops dead in his tracks. He can feel heat spread rapidly across his face and right up to the roots of his hair. Dean lead him to believe—this whole time!—that he hadn’t been recognized. Clearly, that had been wishful thinking.

“That really was you!” Dean exclaims, causing Castiel to flush impossibly darker. He doesn’t bother to answer. His reactions have already shown Dean the truth.

Dean’s grin only seems to grow the longer Castiel takes to come up with a way to respond.

“You know, doc, I’ve been meaning to get my yearly physical.” He says with an outrageous eyebrow wriggle that should be embarrassing. It seems as though Castiel is the only one embarrassed by it.

“I do know some good doctors I could recommend for that,” he says once he figures out how to use words again. He forces his feet to start moving in the direction of the ambulance again, his pace a little faster. He’s not running from the situation, he’s just trying to keep himself ahead of Dean until he can cool his face a little.

Dean catches up quickly. “Really, Cas? After all we’ve been through?” 

He says it in a teasing tone, and Castiel doesn’t have to turn to see the grin the man is sporting, but he does it anyway. “That’s not really the kind of thing I do.”

Dean scoffs dramatically. “I see how it is.”

“No, Dean. It’s…” He knows Dean is teasing, and not really looking for medical attention, but he’s never really known how to deal with that kind of attention. He doesn’t know how to joke around and tease people back, so he answers honestly instead.

“I work in the ER,” he says seriously, and hates it when Dean’s grin shrinks a bit in response. “I’d rather it if I never have a reason to see anyone I know.”

Dean’s smile fades completely, and he seems to be at a loss for words. Castiel is used to having that effect on people, but he’s still disappointed in himself.

“Fair enough.” Dean nods, as if that makes sense, but before Castiel can apologize for bringing down the mood, someone yells Dean’s name.

They both turn to see there’s another fireman waving him back to the truck.

“Alright, well try to take care of yourself, Cas.” Dean pats him gently on the shoulder as he walks away.

“Yes, you too.” Castiel calls after him. He waits until Dean is out of his line of sight before smacking his head on the nearest available surface—which just happens to be the rear door of the ambulance.

Dean was flirting, wasn’t he? And Castiel had to be an idiot and ruin everything. He can’t just flirt back like any reasonable person when faced with the man of their dreams. No, he has to take things literally and completely kill the mood.

Castiel sighs as he pulls himself into the back of the ambulance. The chance that Dean was really interested is minimal at best, anyway. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

The sun is bright in the sky and spreads warmth across the fields. There isn’t much shade around, and even the wind seems to have taken a break for the day. Castiel is glad that he convinced himself to leave the house for once. He can bask in the sunlight that he  rarely gets to see.

Working the night shift takes a lot out of him, but the hospital he works at is fairly small, and the only one in town. Being situated between two very large cities, with multiple sprawling medical complexes, doesn’t seem to keep them from getting busy. As the youngest member of the team that was trained to work the ER—and the only member that is unmarried—he doesn’t have a logical reason to request a better shift. Other than the fact that he hates the night shift, but that doesn’t really seem fair.

The worst part is, he’s so used to working the night shift that he just lives like a hermit, even on his days off. It’s hard to make time for friends and family when everyone is awake while he’s sleeping and vise versa.

But today, the local brewery is having a festival. It’s cheap to get in, and it runs well into the evening. They boast all kinds of brews, snacks, and even a craft fair. Castiel couldn’t help but be excited, even though he hasn’t been able to find anyone to accompany him on short notice.

It’s still wonderful to get out of the house.

As a doctor, he shouldn’t condone junk food, but the smell gets to him almost immediately. Before he knows it he’s buying bags of kettle corn, a turkey leg, and even deep fried oreos—which he’s sure to regret later. The brewery puts out one of his favorite beers, and he stops by their tent for a refill every time he passes.

The craft tables are nothing to snub his nose at either, but he manages to keep himself from purchasing anything. That is, until he finds a beekeeper that makes all his own products. Between the wax and honey products available, Castiel spends much more than he’d planned. He won't allow himself to feel guilty about the purchases, though. He wants his local bees to thrive, which means supporting the keepers that protect and raise them.

Even though it’s November, and the seasons are shifting into the cold of winter, it’s warm enough that he has to take his sweater off. He wraps it around his waist in a way he knows Gabriel would mock him for if he were there, but it’s better than carrying it around for the rest of his adventure.

Maybe one more beer and one of those funnel cakes that are covered in whip cream and strawberries before he leaves. It’s his day off, and he usually lives off whatever he can get delivered in the middle of the night, so he’s not going to feel bad about that either.

He should have thought about putting some sunscreen on, though. The sun beats down on his exposed arms now that he’s removed his sweater, and it’s becoming clear that the weather report was little off with their predictions. It’s supposed to be a little warm for the season, but this is quite a bit hotter than Castiel was expecting.

As if to prove the point, the woman standing just left of him lets out a pained sound before dropping to the ground at his feet.

Shit.

Castiel sighs as he bends down to check her vitals. So much for a day off.

She’s an elderly woman, so chances are it’s just a touch of heat stroke. Her face is red, and her breathing heavy, and—when he checks it—her heartbeat is only slightly elevated. He presses a hand to her forehead and finds it’s too warm. His heat stroke theory seems to be correct.

Castiel glances up and a few people have gathered around them, looking concerned.

“You should probably call an ambulance.” He never understood the way people seem to just stop and stare when something odd happens.

The gathered people jump a little and their hands dart into pockets and purses. Castiel rolls his eyes. They probably should have thought of that themselves, instead of just staring at him.

A woman seems to have won the race as she gets her phone out first, and that leaves the others free handed.

“Can you help me get her out of the sun?”

A man jumps forward automatically, and Castiel directs him to lift her legs. They manage to get her into the shade, and Castiel sends the other bystanders for some water, and some towels.

By the time he’s got a wet a towel and placed it across her forehead, the sound of pounding footsteps alerts Castiel to the arrival of the paramedics.

Castiel glances up in time to see Dean grinding to a halt right beside him. 

Of course it’s Dean.

“Cas! We gotta stop meeting like this!” Dean says with a grin. It’s flirtatious and cute, and Castiel can feel his face heating in response.

Dean’s wearing a t-shirt today with the big white plus sign that signifies event medical staff. Their eyes lock for a moment before Dean drops his attention to the woman Castiel is kneeling beside.

Dean’s eyes widen almost comically. “Mildred!”

The surprise of finding out Dean knows the woman is only expounded when her eyes immediately pop open at her name. There hadn’t been any signs that she’d regained consciousness before.

“Dean, what are you doing here?” She sounds completely coherent, and Castiel knows his jaw drops in shock. She sounds like she’s just run into someone at the supermarket and not at all like a woman that just passed out.

“Jesus, Mildred! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” Dean chastises, leaning forward to grab her wrist with one hand and placing the other behind her shoulder to help her sit up.

Mildred manages to look a little sheepish as she accepts the help.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You two know each other?” He doesn’t know why he asks, it’s fairly clear at this point, but curiosity seems to be getting the best of him. The woman is clearly passed the age of retirement, and Dean looks like he might be a little bit younger than Castiel is.

“Oh yes,” Mildred says, and smiles flirtatiously at Dean.

Castiel raises a questioning eyebrow, and Dean flushes quickly in response.

“I do the CPR certifications at the home where Mildred lives. We go down there and teach the new employees how to handle basic emergencies. The ladies like to take the time out of their busy schedules to come watch.”

Mildred snorts at his answer but doesn’t disagree. It doesn’t take much for Castiel to visualize the fireman surrounded by little old ladies. They probably get tired of flirting with the same old men every day. It must be a real treat to have a man as good looking as Dean show up every couple of months.

“I see.” Castiel can’t help grinning at the woman. He gets his own share of lonely older ladies trying to flirt at the hospital as well.

Dean turns to give her a once-over, looking for damage. When nothing is apparent, he frowns down at her.

“Why were you just laying there?” He asks, seeming to finally realize how easily she’d been roused when he showed up.

Mildred manages to look embarrassed and devious at the same time. “If you play dead long enough they usually give you mouth to mouth.” She passes a sly look in Castiel’s direction and he feels his own cheeks heat.

“Really?” Dean asks her, a tinge of exasperation in his voice. 

Mildred just nods, all traces of embarrassment wiped away. She actually looks a little proud of her cunning plan.

“That really works?” Dean asks her again, but this time his voice sounds curious, and he passes a quick look at Castiel before turning his attention back to her.

“Usually.” She grins up at Dean and that same devious look seems to take over his face. He lets out a thoughtful hum, and the moment seems to stretch.

Castiel catches a wicked smirk crossing the man’s face right before he pitches forward dramatically, landing on the ground at Mildred’s side.

“Oh Lord in heaven! I’ve got the vapors!” Dean announces, falsetto, flopping onto his back dramatically. He brings the back of a hand to his forehead.

Green eyes squint up at Castiel, and it takes him a moment to catch on to what Dean’s implying. He can’t help the blush that steals across his face at the idea of giving Dean mouth to mouth.

“The black lung!” Dean adds, his face practically screaming his amusement at his own acting. Castiel does his best to look nonplussed by the man’s antics while his insides churn. It’s not that he doesn’t think the horrible acting and unlikely diseases are funny, but he can’t tell if Dean is only trying to entertain them, while Castiel is having a hard time not picturing himself giving the man CPR.

“Consumption?” Dean adds although it sounds like a question. He looks toward Mildred this time as if to confirm that it’s a real disease.

“Bad Blood?” He asks next and Mildred indiscreetly digs her elbow into his side. 

“Ow! Uh, not that one.” Dean’s eyes lock back onto Castiel’s and this time it’s a bit harder for Castiel to keep his cool. He knows Dean has no idea what he’s saying, which only makes it all the more amusing. Bad blood  _ is _ an ancient disease name, but the more modern name for it is syphilis.

“Scur-vy!” Dean shouts, impersonating a pirate, and that seems to be the last straw. Mildred begins to giggle, and Dean’s chuckles join in seconds later.

Castiel just manages to hold it together. The corners of his lips tug up, but he rolls his lips between his teeth and doesn’t allow the smile to escape. When his two “patients” settle, he even manages a half-hearted glare.

“I thought you were supposed to be playing dead.”

They both immediately flop lifeless to the ground and Castiel rolls his eyes. There are three other volunteers off to the side watching the scene and laughing amongst themselves. Castiel notices the gurney they’d brought to take the patient back to the medical tent beside them and gestures them toward it.

“I suppose you can take them away boys. There’s nothing more I can do.” Castiel bows his head in mock sorrow.

The onlookers laugh again, but the grin Dean shoots him is the only one he was really aiming for. 

“Damn. It was worth a shot,” Dean says, hopping up onto his feet effortlessly. He reaches down and helps Mildred to stand, placing a hand on her back to lead her toward the fair entrance.

“Thanks for the help, Cas.” Dean’s smile is completely sincere.

“Of course.”

Dean and Mildred only make it a few steps away from him before Dean begins to berate the woman.

“Mildred, if I catch you out again without your nurse I’m gunna…” He trails off.

“You’re going to what?” Mildred asks, and Castiel knows he’s not imagining the flirtatious tone of her voice.

“I don’t actually know what they do with older people. Do they put you on leashes?” Dean’s tone is teasing but that doesn’t save him.

“Dean Winchester!” Mildred reaches out a hand to smack Dean solidly in the chest, and again for good measure.

“Ow. OW! Alright! Just be good. I’ll take you home.”

Castiel’s eyes follow them until they’re out of sight, and he sighs a little to himself. He wishes he were better versed in social interaction. It honestly felt like Dean had been flirting with him, but he couldn’t help but worry that he was reading the situation wrong and he didn’t want to make an even bigger fool of himself.

[ ](https://ibb.co/kCsptd)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art created by the amazingly talented [ Foxymoley! ](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/tagged/foxyarts) Go crrepy stalk her Tumblr!


	4. Chapter 4

The sound of a smoke detector going off in the breakroom has Castiel snatching patient files rudely out of the head nurse’s hands. Usually, he tries to be more polite, but he resists the urge to apologize as he takes off in the direction of the sound.

Castiel knows that whatever is happening is his fault. He’d only left long enough to grab the files so he could read them on his break, and no one else had been in the room.

At least he’s volunteering at the local clinic. He can’t even imagine the mayhem that would happen if he’d been at the hospital.

Still, he has to stop the noise as quickly as possible. Knowing his luck, the alarm for the entire clinic would go off. If that happens, the fire department will certainly be called and Castiel holds no hope that Dean won’t be among them.

He pushes a chair up underneath the little plastic circle he assumes is the smoke detector and steps up into the seat to put himself closer. The sound coming from such a tiny object is grating, and much louder than it needs to be. In his opinion.

This isn’t the first time he’s set off a smoke alarm in his cooking efforts, and he knows if he can clear the air around it he can make the noise stop. Waving the files in his hand under it should be enough to thin the smoke.

“What the hell is going on in here?”

Castiel glances toward the door where Gabriel stands looking confused. His expression turns amused as he takes in Castiel’s actions.

“Open some windows, Gabriel! Don’t just stand there!”

Castiel knows his voice is frantic, and the way his hand desperately waves the files to fan the smoke detector speaks volumes, but he can only hope that Gabriel helps  _ before _ he uses the opportunity to poke fun at him.

Thankfully, Gabriel moves toward the bank of windows on the side of the building and begins to throw them open one by one.

“How did you manage to set off the alarm in here? There’s not even a stove!”

Gabriel actually has a bit of a point about that. The clinic doesn’t have much by way of a break room, but it does have a microwave. Apparently, Castiel can find a way to set something on fire, even with so little to work with.

“I was just trying to warm up leftovers! It’s not my fault if the microwave finally decided to give out.”

The obnoxious bleating of the alarm chooses to finally stop, and Castiel allows his arms to drop as he glares over at his brother. He knows the teasing is coming, no matter what he says.

Gabriel gives up on his mission to open windows now that the noise has stopped, but is now grinning so brightly it can only mean trouble for Castiel.

“So, we’ve resorted to setting off fire alarms now?”

Castiel was expecting it, but he still rolls his eyes. “Not now, Gabriel.”

“Running into your hot fireman everywhere isn’t enough anymore? You can’t just wait until you slip on something at the grocery store in front of him or something?”

Castiel regrets telling Gabriel any details of the times he’s run into Dean. He knew Gabriel would make fun of him for managing to start a fire in the break room, but he didn’t realize exactly how much ammunition he’d given until that moment. Gabriel is a master in the art of teasing, and Castiel handed him comedy gold without even realizing it.

“You know that’s not—” he starts to protest, but as predicted, Gabriel continues talking as if he hasn’t said anything at all.

“They probably have a number you can call, you know? It’s probably easier than setting fires!”

Castiel doesn’t even bother to answer this time. He knows from experience that protesting is useless. He does vow to himself never to share anything with Gabriel again, even as he acknowledges that for the lie it is. Gabriel can be a giant pain in the ass when he wants to be, but he is and has always been the one Castiel goes to when he needs to talk. Even when he just needs to talk about how the universe is punishing him with embarrassment in the face of hot firefighters.

Instead, he hops down from the chair and moves to inspect the microwave instead. It’s still smoking gently and there are scorch marks around the door. He can’t even see through the window anymore. All evidence points to this being Castiel’s fault.

He can still hear Gabriel prattling on about hot firemen and how Castiel doesn’t know how to handle them, but he doesn’t feel the need to re-engage. He doesn’t even bother worrying that any of the other doctors or nurses might overhear. Gabriel has probably already told them all about it, anyway.

Castiel’s efforts to ignore his brother take just enough of his attention that he doesn’t even question his decision to pop the door open and inspect what’s left of his food. A plume of smoke escapes, and before he can react the alarm is sounding again.

Gabriel’s words are cut short with a new burst of laughter as Castiel scrambles back up on the chair to wave the cloud away from the device again.

“Shut up, and help me!” he snaps, nodding his head toward the files he’d mistakenly put down when he tried to inspect the damage he’d caused. His hands aren’t doing nearly as good of a job at dispersing the smoke.

Gabriel’s smirk is still firmly in place as he hands over the files, but Castiel is practically an expert at ignoring him. And that’s what he plans to do.

“What’s going on in here?” A voice asks from the doorway, and he doesn’t even have to turn and look to know who it is.

“Dammit.” 

This can’t possibly be good. Not only is there a fireman at the door, which is bad enough on its own, but Gabriel knows way too much about this particular fireman for this to end well for Castiel.

Instead of acknowledging Dean, he continues his work trying to get the alarm to turn off again.

“Don’t worry about it, sir. We’ve got it under control,” Gabriel attempts to settle the new addition.

The noise finally stops again, and Castiel turns to take in the man who’s joined them.

“Hello, Dean.” Somehow he manages to keep his voice placid, even as his eyes meet Dean’s across the space. When Castiel had described him as perfect while talking to his brother he’d felt a bit ridiculous, but with Dean standing in his sights again he realizes it wasn’t an exaggeration in the least.

“Cas! I should have known!” Dean grins, sending Castiel’s heart into palpitations.

He sends up a prayer that Dean catching him setting off fire alarms is the most humiliating thing that will happen this time.

Gabriel takes a breath quick enough Castiel can hear it from where he still stands elevated above him, and he loses all hope he’ll get out of this without further embarrassment. He might as well jump right into the deep end.

“Dean, this is my brother, Gabriel. Gabriel, Dean.” He hops down from the chair and gestures vaguely between the two of them. 

Dean comes fully into the room at the introduction, reaching out a hand to shake Gabriel’s, and it’s only now Castiel realizes he’s not in his firefighting garb.

“What are you doing here?” He does his best to keep his voice from sounding accusatory, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

Dean just grins at him, though. “A buddy of mine needed a ride. He’s been under the weather for the last week and finally decided it was time to get checked out.” His grin widens as he glances over at the microwave and the battle scars it now holds. “I heard the alarm going off and figured I’d come make sure it was being handled correctly.”

“So, you  _ are _ the fireman.”

Castiel’s attention snaps to Gabriel, and his heart sinks at the cheshire grin that signals trouble. When he chances a glance back at Dean, he looks amused, one eyebrow raising in question. Castiel doesn’t feel the need to divulge how Gabriel might have heard of the fireman, though.

When Dean decides to speak, Castiel braces himself to give an explanation. 

“I thought you worked in the ER,” he says, instead, and Castiel lets out a breath in relief.

“I do. The clinic was short-handed today, and Gabriel graciously volunteered me to come help out.” He pours as much sarcasm into the sentence as he possibly can.

Dean nods, mockingly serious. “That’s very gracious of you, Gabriel,” he says amusement clear in his voice. 

“I am a paragon of good deeds.” Gabriel answers without pause or even a hint of humility.

Dean rolls his eyes at Gabriel. He turns his attention toward the microwave, and Castiel feels humiliation creeping up his neck again.

He hasn’t had the chance to figure out how the fire started, but he can almost guarantee at this point that it’ll be something ridiculous. He might have doubted being the cause if Dean wasn’t standing beside him. 

Castiel moves toward the machine before anyone else can. Even knowing it’ll hold proof that he was responsible for the disaster, he can’t stop his curiosity. It wasn’t every day he managed to set a microwave on fire.

The sight of the little box his leftover Chinese was in is all it takes for Castiel to realize what he’d done wrong. He tries to keep his cringe internal, but the groan that escapes him is telling in itself.

[](https://ibb.co/maZ2Dd)

“Metal in the microwave? Really, Cassy?” Gabriel doesn’t even bother to hide his glee at Castiel’s obvious mistake.

“I… didn’t get a lot of sleep.” Castiel knows it’s a poor excuse—all the doctors in the clinic could say the same—but he can’t help but try to defend himself. Even if there is no way to explain his actions successfully. He hadn’t spared a single thought to the little metal handles on the package.

This habit of looking like a fool in front of Dean is really starting to get old. He doesn’t know what he’s done to piss off the universe, but he hopes it forgives him soon.

Dean chuckles a bit, but surprisingly, lets him off the hook. “I think everyone has done it at least once. I don’t know why they put your leftovers in something that’s not microwave safe, anyway.”

Castiel is so happy at Dean’s response he throws a look of satisfaction toward his brother with the confidence of Dean’s defense behind him. 

Before Gabriel can begin his mocking, though, Dean continues, “Although, I can’t say I’ve ever left them in there long enough to actually catch the thing on fire.”

The look Gabriel throws back is smug, and Castiel wants to smack it off his face.

“You guys really are brothers, aren’t you?”

They both turn to Dean at the comment. 

Castiel feels as though he’s just been slapped. “You thought I wasn’t being sincere?”

“What?” Dean’s mouth tilts in confusion, but his eyes suddenly widen as he rushes to explain, “No! I just mean, you guys look nothing alike. It was a little hard to believe at first. It’s pretty clear now, though. You argue just like me and my brother.”

“Oh.” Castiel can certainly see where Dean is coming from. They really don’t look similar in any way. The surprising part is the genuine offence he felt when he thought Dean believed him to be dishonest. 

There’s too much awkward tension in the room now, and Castiel has no idea how to dispel it. He knows he’s the one that caused it, a complete overreaction to an innocent comment, but while he can easily make a situation uncomfortable, he hasn’t mastered the art of diffusing it.

“Well, I’d better go check on my friend,” Dean says, and it’s the most uncomfortable Castiel has ever heard him sound. “It looks like you guys have got this handled.”

Castiel knows he needs to say something. He can’t let Dean leave on such an awkward note after he’s finally had a chance to have a conversation with the man. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Alright.” At least Dean seems to be as much at a loss as Castiel feels. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Cas,” he says before cutting a quick line toward the door.

Castiel opens his mouth to protest the loss of Dean’s presence, but he can’t think of anything to say that won’t seem weird now that Dean has made an excuse to leave the situation. He manages a soft goodbye, and it earns him a sweet smile before Dean disappears around the door frame.

“Wooooow.”

Castiel almost jumps at the drawn out word, nearly forgetting that his brother is still in the room.

“You were not kidding about the bumbling fool you turn into when he’s around!”

As much as Castiel wishes he could argue with his brother on that, he can’t. He just hangs his head in shame, but the mocking he expects never comes.

“You weren’t kidding about the ass on that boy either!”

Castiel’s head snaps up so quickly he hopes he doesn’t end up with whiplash. “I said no such thing!”

The shit eating grin he expects to see on Gabriel’s face is missing. The soft, amused smile is completely unexpected.

“I know, little brother. I was just kidding.” Gabriel’s face turns thoughtful. “I mean…about you saying that. I was not kidding about how nice his ass is.”

Castiel’s lips tilt up into a smile before he can help it. He knows Gabriel is only trying to cheer him up in his own ridiculous way.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Gabriel says it softly, as if it might be news to him. He just groans and drops his head into his hands in response.

“The good news is, I think he likes you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course the art was made by [ Foxymoley!](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/tagged/foxyarts)


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel should have known a party at Gabriel’s house would end up like this. It was practically written in the cards. Not just because Gabriel was a disaster waiting to happen, but because this was the only kind of luck Castiel could really count on lately.

There is a fire. Of course.

It’s a contained fire, expanding to only the length of Gabriel’s outdoor barbeque, but the flames rose high enough that Castiel predicted the sound of sirens before he actually heard them.

It isn’t even a surprise when Dean and his partner, once again fully decked in firefighting gear, make their way around the corner of the house. Or when his face morphs into a smirk as he takes in Castiel with the garden hose frantically trying to put out the fire.

“Castiel.” Dean greets plainly with a solemn nod, although his expression doesn’t match.

Castiel drops the hose as if it’s what’s on fire. “It wasn’t me!”

He can feel his face heating as Dean’s smirk widens. He knows he sounds like a child that’s just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, but he can’t help it. It has become very clear to him in the last few months that it’s his destiny to make a fool out of himself in front of Dean.

Dean turns from him to survey the scene, probably taking in the “severity” of the fire they’d been called to. 

It’s pitiful really.

“I’ll get the extinguisher out of the truck.” The man standing next to Dean says, sighing as he turns back the way they came.

Castiel can’t help but feel a bit foolish—even though it’s Gabriel’s house and in no way his fault there isn’t a fire extinguisher handy. It’s still embarrassing that the fire department was called for a fire that could have been put out with just an extinguisher. Or if Castiel had been given more time, the garden hose. 

“We didn’t call the fire department.” He feels the need to point out.

Dean looks more amused the more uncomfortable Castiel gets. “Your neighbors probably did. People get real skittish about fires out in the suburbs.”

Not that Castiel can blame them. Gabriel’s grill is huge, the kind of extravagance that truly fits his personality. Even though the fire is mostly contained by the brick walls built around it, the flames are high and wide enough that it probably looks horrifying to the people on the other side of the fence. 

“I found it!” Gabriel chooses to burst out of the back door at this moment, extinguisher in hand. It takes him a moment to notice Dean, and the excitement on his face falls.

“Damn it.”

Dean’s grin returns with a vengeance. “Is this your place, Gabriel?”

“Yes,” Gabriel grumbles, his lip pushing out for a truly impressive pout.

“You know we have to fine people for this sort of thing?”

Gabriel’s pout manages to intensify. “I know.”

Dean lets out a little chuckle, grinning sideways at Castiel as if they’re sharing the joke. Castiel has no idea what Dean thinks is so funny, but he grins back anyway.

Dean sighs as if the weight of the world is on his shoulders, but again his smile doesn’t drop. “Let me see that extinguisher.”

Castiel can’t help but wonder what has Dean in such high spirits. He’s been called out to the suburbs for a call Castiel can only equate to a sprained ankle. He knows something like that would have irritated him if he were in Dean’s position, but Dean is grinning like Christmas came early.

The other firefighter makes it back to them as Gabriel holds the red canister out for Dean, and the man sighs again—this one more long-suffering than the one before it. Dean’s grin turns his direction.

“Come on, Benny! Don’t be a party pooper!” Dean exchanges the fire extinguisher for the one in Benny’s hands. “If this thing actually works, we won’t have to charge the nice doctors for this run.”

The man called Benny eyes Dean suspiciously for a moment before his gaze swings toward Gabriel. He seems to size him up for a moment until his eyes move to meet Castiel’s. The sizing up takes longer this time. 

“Doctors huh?” Benny says, suddenly, smirking at Dean.

Dean’s cheeks quickly turn a lovely shade of pink. “Just put that fire out before it decides to spread,” he snaps defensively.

Benny looks amused by Dean’s reaction. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this. Come with me, Doctor. I’ll show you how to use one of these.” He waves for Gabriel to follow him, and Gabriel looks so giddy, Castiel almost fears for  Benny, the man has no idea what he’s just signed himself up for.

“I’m sure Dean can keep your friend entertained,” he adds with a chuckle while leading the way over to the still flaming grill. Of course, once the right tool is in use, he makes short work of the fire.

Castiel can’t help but think Dean has told this man about him. Benny’s reaction to the comment about doctors couldn’t really mean anything else. And the flush on Dean’s face after Benny’s comment fills Castiel with hope. As willing as he usually is to believe he’s reading into things, he doesn’t find himself doing it this time. He can only think of what Gabriel said after the last time he and Dean had seen each other.

“Listen, Cas,” Dean starts, pulling Castiel out of his musings. He switches his attention to Dean, who has made a place for himself right beside him. “As much as I’m enjoying these little adventures, it would probably be easier and safer if I just gave you my number.”

“I know, I’m sorry… what?” Castiel tries to apologize but stops the second he realizes exactly what Dean is saying. 

“I mean, I could just give you my number and then you wouldn’t have to set things on fire to get my attention.” The smirk on Dean’s face is less confident than usual, and Castiel finds he doesn’t like that.

He tries to send Dean a reassuring smile, but he’s not really sure how well it comes across. 

“I would like that.”

It takes a few seconds for the rest of Dean’s statement to sink in, and when it does his voice rises in agitation. 

“I have not been setting things on fire to get your attention!”

Dean chuckles. Castiel knows he’s being teased, but it feels friendly—like he’s in on the joke—and he can’t prevent his answering smile.

“How do you explain all of this, then?” Dean makes a sweeping gesture that encompasses the disaster that is Gabriel’s backyard at this point: the scorch marks on the grill and the ground around it, the white foam substance that is leftover from the extinguisher, Benny slowly turning over pieces of metal as if he’s making sure the fire isn’t just hiding from them somewhere.

[ ](https://ibb.co/bx6hDd)

“Gabriel started that fire! I just happened to be here!”

“Uh-huh. And all the times I’ve seen you before?”

“That was clearly the universe trying to make me look like an idiot in front of you.”

“Sure, sure. Blame the universe.”

Dean smiles at him, a full broad smile, and it’s more beautiful than all the smirks and grins Castiel has seen before. He knows his own face mirrors the action, and even when he realizes they’ve just been smiling at each other for longer than is socially accepted, he can’t seem to bring himself to look away.

“Come on, brother. We’ve got plenty of other backyards to save today.” A giant hand lands on Dean’s shoulder, and Castiel doesn’t even feel bad for not noticing Benny’s return when Dean nearly jumps out of his skin at the contact.

“Hang on just one second,” Castiel says, rushing into the house and returning as quickly as possible. He has no intention of missing this opportunity now that it’s been presented to him.

He returns with a pen and paper that he shoves into Dean’s hands quickly before he can change his mind.

The smile that spreads across Dean’s face is like the sun coming out from a stormcloud and Castiel has to resist the urge to do something stupid. For all he knows, Dean was only joking about giving Castiel his number, but he’s gotten so used to embarrassing himself in front of the man, he can’t even find the energy to be worried about it.

But Dean doesn’t look upset or confused. He mostly looks relieved, as if he might suffer from the same fears that Castiel does. And when he cups the paper in one hand as he writes on it with the other, Castiel can feel excitement bubbling up within him. He took a chance, and it seems like it’s actually paying off for once.

Benny looks confused for a second, but one look at the paper still in Dean’s hand and he bursts into laughter.

“Shut up, Benny,” Dean says, but he’s grinning so hard Castiel knows he’s not really upset. He hands back the office supplies and Castiel does his best to keep eye contact instead of staring down at the phone number he finally has in his hands.

“This number is not for emergencies. Please don’t set anything on fire before calling.” Dean’s voice is teasing, and Castiel can feel his face heating again. 

“I did not start that fire!”

Benny’s laughter evolves until he’s bent over at the middle, clinging to his knee as if it’s the only thing keeping him standing. Dean gives him a little shove, but his own chuckles join a second later.

“I know, Cas. Just, you know, give me a call sometime. Or text me. I work odd hours.”

“Yes, I know the feeling.” Castiel knows he’s grinning like an idiot, but it’s hard not to when he’s getting everything he wants—and with Benny’s laughter barely beginning to trickle off.

Dean flushes a little and rubs a hand on the back of his neck in an awkward little move that Castiel interprets as nerves. “I’ve got to get back to work, but uh, now you can get a hold of me, or whatever.”

“Yes.” And Castiel can’t stop smiling about that.

Dean seems to be at a loss of what to say from there but manages a “see you around, Cas” before grabbing Benny’s arm to pull him back around the house.

“Man, you are smooth like crunchy peanut butter.” Benny’s voice travels back to where Castiel still stands.

Dean’s groan is loud enough to hear from his position. “Shut up, Benny!”

“Using the job to pick up hot doctors now. I’m sure the captain would love to hear about this!”

“If Bobby hears about this, I’ll know exactly who to kill.”

Their voices are fading as they get farther away, but Castiel only feels a little shame in moving closer to the corner so they can’t see him, but he’ll still be able to hear.

“Honestly, it was like watching awkward middle schoolers at a dance.”

“SHUT UP, BENNY!”

Castiel is amused to note that even Dean, with as cool and confident as he always seems, still gets picked on by his friends. His amusement is cut short as the paper Dean’s number is written on is ripped from his hands.

“What’s this, Cassy? A love note for your fireman crush?”

Castiel’s eyes snap to Gabriel who looks highly amused at his own joke, but his face fades towards amazement as he reads the paper.

“You got his number? Holy Shit! You sly dog!”

Castiel rolls his eyes and reaches forward to take the paper back. Of course, Gabriel predicts the action and moves it out of reach.

“There was nothing sly about it. He offered to give it to me.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow that clearly speaks of disbelief, but in his efforts of dramatic flare he forgets he’s supposed to be playing keep away. Castiel is able to snatch the paper back from him.

“So you didn’t start that fire just to get a chance to see him again?”

“I DID NOT START THAT FIRE!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just to switch things up a bit, the last chapter is from Dean's POV!

Dean blinks his eyes open slowly. He tries to get a look around, but it’s much too bright. Conceding defeat, he closes them. There seems to be some sort of drum circle in his head, and it only gets louder with the increase in light.

God, he feels like he’s been hit by a bus.

He can’t even remember the last time he’s been this hungover. Maybe high school. Certainly not anytime recently.

He struggles to pull up his memories to figure out what could have possibly made him think it was a good idea to get drunk enough to feel this shitty. He tries to remember a bar, or a friend’s house maybe, but nothing comes to mind. The last thing he can remember is being called in as backup for the paint warehouse fire. 

It had been too big a fight for just one truck, and Dean hadn’t even given a thought to his day off being ruined before he’d jumped in his car and rushed to help.

He pulled up to the station and found Benny, Jo, and Max ready and waiting. 

He suited up quickly, and the truck was pulling out of the station in record time.

The building was massive, and the flames stretched even higher, licking the sky with unholy glee. It was no wonder they were called. The other truck was doing all they could, but their single hose wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

They got to work right away, and between the two teams, they even seemed to be succeeding. Luckily, there were no buildings nearby that the fire could spread to. It looked like slow and steady was their only option, anyway.

But then there was the girl. She had ratty unwashed hair, and soot on her face. And when she came to them crying, they thought she was upset that her temporary home had caught fire. But that hadn’t been the case at all. The last time she’d seen her friends they’d still been in that building. Which meant things were much more complicated than they seemed.

The heat was extreme as he and Benny approached the area indicated by the girl. The flames had been pushed back enough to risk going in for the rescue, and they hadn’t even paused once they got the ok.

His memories were a little blurry after that, but he does remember the groan of the building shifting. It was a terrifying sound, and it never meant anything good. 

He shared a glance with Benny, and they moved as one back toward the exit.

And then, pain.

A shot of adrenaline rushes down Dean’s spine as he realizes the danger he’s in. He’s not hungover. He’s been knocked out. And if he doesn’t get his ass up and moving, he’s probably going to suffer a lot worse than he already is.

He grits his teeth against the pain in his chest, clenches his abs, and presses his elbows into the soft surface below him in an effort to force his body into moving. Pain lances through his chest and sprinkles down his sides, and before he can convince himself that he has no other choice but to push through, there are hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. 

Someone is here, thank God! He is filled with relief at the realization. He won’t have to find his way out on his own. He doesn’t have to die here, like this.

“Be still, Mr. Winchester! You’ll aggravate your injuries!”

The voice is feminine and unfamiliar, and Dean only has time to send a prayer that she’ll be able to get him out before the blackness settles around him again.

[ ](https://ibb.co/kwaQYd)

When Dean next opens his eyes, the welcoming sight of his brother greets him. It frightens him for a second, but only as long as it takes him to realize he’s in a hospital. He’d made it out after all.

Sam is sitting in a chair at his bedside, book in one hand and a styrofoam cup in the other. He looks rather peaceful for a man sitting at his brother’s deathbed.

Dean means to tell him how offended he is, but the noise that comes out of his mouth can barely be described as speaking, and as soon it escapes him he’s thrown into a coughing fit. The worst part is the pain that sears through his veins at the action.

His lungs are on fire. There’s no other explanation for the pain. His lungs have spontaneously combusted, and the fire is spreading through his entire torso. He tries to curl in on himself, and that only causes more pain.

Sam’s gigantic hand is on his shoulder in an instant, pressing him back down to the bed.

“Just… lay still. I’m going to get a nurse.”

Sam’s face is finally filled with the worry Dean was going to mock him for not having earlier, but he doesn’t feel like he’s won anything. He just feels like shit.

Sam gives him a nod before quickly exiting the room.

As much as Dean would like to point out the little red button on his bed that calls the nurse, he has no desire to try speaking again. He’ll just have to wait and make fun of Sam for that later. He reaches over to push the button himself but gives up before his hand makes it even halfway there.

Now that he’s finally stopped coughing, he tries to take stock of his injuries. There’s no telling how long it’ll take Sam to convince someone to come check on him, or if that person will even be able to tell Dean all of his injuries, anyway.

He starts by wiggling his toes, just to have somewhere to begin. It doesn’t cause him further pain, so he moves on. His knees bend, and there’s no pain there. His fingers and arms are in good working order, too, which means he can place the pain he felt when reaching for the button somewhere else.

Before he can get any further into his investigation, Sam comes back in followed by a short, dark-haired woman.

“I think he was trying to talk, but he just kept coughing!” Sam says, and the woman rolls her eyes. Sam can’t see it where he is wringing his hands at the end of the bed, but Dean can.

“Your brother inhaled a considerable amount of smoke in the fire.” She says, glancing at the heart monitor before seating herself on a rolling stool that she pulls close to the bed.

“But that was two days ago!”

Dean is shocked to find out the fire was two days ago. He wants desperately to ask what happened that left him out for two days, but the memory of the last time he attempted speaking stops him.

Dean watches as the woman visibly refrains from rolling her eyes again. 

“Yes,” she says slowly, as if she’s talking to a particularly dim child, “but we had to put a tube down his throat and help him breathe. It will take a while for his throat to heal.” Her voice is sickeningly sweet, in a way that Dean can’t help but think is mocking.

The news that he’d had to be intubated is a surprise. At least he was unconscious at the time. He’s never had a tube down his throat before, but it never seemed particularly appealing when he had to do it to others. And the way she said it made him think it wasn’t removed very long ago.

“He looked like he was in a lot of pain,” Sam says, casting a worried glance at Dean.

The nurse glares at Sam. Dean interprets the look as a “let me do my fucking job.” She turns her attention to him and her expression softens a bit. 

“Mr. Winchester, I need you to tell me how much pain you’re in. I know that it’s difficult to speak, so you can just use your fingers. On a scale from one to ten, one being a minor annoyance and ten being the worst pain you’ve ever felt, how much pain would you say you’re in?”

Dean snorts at the professional tone she uses with him as opposed to the one she’d used with Sam but immediately regrets it as it causes pain to explode in his chest again. He lifts one of his hands with all five fingers raised, but thinks better of it and lifts the other to add another finger.

“A six?” she asks, and Dean nods an affirmative.

She rolls her stool away from him, pushing herself back toward the desk near the door where she begins typing away on a laptop Dean hadn’t noticed before.

“A six, Dean? Really?” Sam asks, incredulous. “It looked like you were dying! Stop trying to act tough.”

Dean just shrugs a bit, since he can’t really make an argument without the use of his vocal chords. He really does feel awful, though, so instead he raises another finger.

The nurse notices the change and rolls her eyes again.

“Ok, let’s try this,” she says, rolling her chair back to his bedside. She reaches out a finger and taps Dean lightly on the sternum.

Pain explodes outward at the contact, and Dean whimpers as he throws both hands up in defense.

“So, that’s a ten.” She looks satisfied as she rolls back to the laptop.

Dean blames Sam for that little incident, but when he turns to glare at him, Sam’s horrified face says he’s already blaming himself. He mouths a “sorry” at Dean and grimaces. Dean gets the impression that Sam is a little scared of his nurse.

“Don’t bother glaring at him. I was going to lie about your answer, anyway. Your doctor is very conservative with pain management, and I don’t agree with his methods.” She’s staring directly at the screen as she speaks but turns back to him. “Your injuries are fairly extensive, and I know you are in pain. I don’t want you to tough it out. I need you to be honest with your pain levels. If you are experiencing any pain above a five, I need to hear about it. Nod if you understand me.”

Her words manage to make Dean feel a little guilty. This woman is just trying to do her job. He nods.

“Good.” She nods sternly. “Now, I’m sure you have some questions. I’m going to get you some water and something for you to write on. You shouldn’t try talking again for a little while. Your throat will be fine, but the coughing is likely to exacerbate some of your other injuries, and we don’t want that.”

Dean nods again, shamefaced.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” She stands and heads out the door, but not without passing a glare at Sam that seems to make him shrink down into himself.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Your nurse is fucking scary.” Sam says, glancing toward the door as if afraid that she’ll still be there.

Dean just nods again.

  
  


It doesn’t take long for Dean to be grateful that his nurse is so concerned for his well being. The longer he’s conscious, the more pain he’s in, and he doesn’t mind telling her when she comes to check on him.

She’d given him a little dry erase board to write on, and as she steps into the room he quickly writes down a nine and a sad face before holding it up for her to see.

She sighs heartily and drops onto the stool to record the number. “I know. I’m sorry. The doctor is not cooperating.” She types quickly, and when she finishes she pulls up to his bedside again. “The good news is, he’s about to head home for the day, and the night doctor is much more willing to listen to me.”

Dean nods, mostly because it’s the only thing he can do.

“I know it sucks, but at least you’ll be able to get some sleep tonight once the doctor approves the pain meds.”

Dean sincerely hopes that’s true. He knows a lot of the things used to alleviate pain also seem to make people pass out. And he really needs to pass out. And not only because of the pain.

Sam seems to have taken it upon himself to fill the silence that comes with Dean not being able to speak. Dean has heard every single thing that has popped into his brother’s mind for the last three hours, and he’s about to strangle him. At least Sam is mostly silent when the nurses come in to check on him.

“Meg.” The voice at the door startles all three of them, and their attention swings that direction.

“Doctor Novak. What are you doing here?”

His nurse’s name is apparently Meg, and Dean is a little ashamed that he hadn’t thought to ask her.

The doctor steps into the room and Dean is delighted to see Castiel. Somehow it hadn’t registered that Castiel would work at this hospital. He cuts an impressive figure in his scrubs and white coat. All of Dean’s Doctor Sexy fantasies pale in comparison, really.

“I came to check up on the patient.” Castiel leans over a bit as he scrolls through the notes Meg has been taking on the laptop. When he finally seems satisfied, Castiel’s full attention turns his way.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel offers him a comforting smile. “How are you feeling?”

Dean writes an eight on his board and holds it up knowing the doctor will be able to decipher it.

“I’m sorry to see that.”

He erases the number, changing it to a ten, and making an arrow that points to the right. When he holds it up again, the arrow is pointing toward his brother. He rolls his eyes to accentuate his point.

Castiel’s smile turns amused. “Who’s your friend, Dean?”

When he lifts the whiteboard again it has  _ brother/Sam _ written on it.

“Sam.” Castiel’s gaze switches to where Sam sits in an incredibly uncomfortable chair at the end of Dean’s bed. Sam hops out of the chair automatically, and Castiel puts his hand out to shake.

“It’s very nice to meet you. I’m doc- Castiel. Although, your brother has taken to calling me Cas.”

Sam’s eyes flick to Dean quickly, suspicion evident in the look, but his manners are still impeccable. He shakes Castiel’s hand firmly, just like Dean had taught him many years ago.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“I wonder if you could do me a favor, Sam.” Castiel says without preamble, and when Sam nods he continues, “Will you see if you can find Dean some coffee? The heat will be good for his throat.”

Dean is elated to hear Castiel come up with a reasonable sounding excuse to get Sam to give him a break. He hasn’t even had a chance to explain how Sam was causing him pain. Although, he supposes it’s probably common for family members to cause most of the problems for patients.

“Dean told you to get rid of me, didn’t he?”

Too bad Sam knows him so well. What a waste of a perfectly valid excuse.

“Yes,” Castiel answers automatically, and Dean rolls his eyes. It figures that Castiel is a terrible liar.

Instead of sticking around to yell, Sam just sighs. He sends Dean his best kicked-puppy look but heads out the door without argument.

Dean writes on the board again, and holds it up for Castiel to see.

_ Thank you _

“Of course.” Castiel doesn’t look convinced that he’s actually helped, but Dean has already forgiven him for telling Sam the truth. It’s refreshing to deal with someone who doesn’t bother to lie.

_ Has he been here the whole time?  _ He asks, truly worried that his gargantuan brother has been folded up in that terrible chair for days.

“I believe so.”

_ Can you send him home for a while? _

Castiel nods in response, so Dean quickly erases it and writes again.

_ Doctors orders. He needs to shower. _

The smile he receives in response is soft, and Dean thinks he might not have been able to hide his concern for his brother as well as he’d thought.

Castiel doesn’t call him on it, instead changing the subject completely. “Why are you using the whiteboard? Your throat should be fine by now.”

Dean trusts the doctor knows what he’s talking about, but as he opens his mouth to answer he sees the sharp glare Meg throws his direction and he snaps it closed again. 

Castiel turns to follow his line of sight.

“Ah, I see. Meg has forbidden you from speaking.” His face is serious, but his tone is amused.

“The coughing is only going to cause him more pain,” Meg explains, not sounding the least bit ashamed that she’s been caught.

“Yes, that’s probably true.” Castiel nods, thoughtfully. He turns back to Dean, leaning in to stage whisper. “You’re very lucky to have Meg as your nurse. She’s the best we have.”

Dean can tell that Castiel is dead serious, and it makes him feel better about being so easily cowed by the woman. He scribbles a note quickly and holds it up.

_ Sam is afraid of her.  _

Meg snorts gracelessly.

“I can’t say I blame him,” Castiel answers, and Dean grins.

  
  


Castiel leaves to return to work and Sam comes back as Meg excuses herself. He’s carrying a giant steaming cup, but there’s a guilty look on his face.

“I know he said to bring you coffee,” Sam starts, and Dean already knows where this is going, “but your nurse said you needed sleep, so I got you some tea.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but before he can even gather the energy to write out a complaint, Meg comes back through the door. Her face is brighter than it had been the last few times she came in.

“Guess what I have?” she says, and holds up a bag of clear liquid. She doesn’t wait for an answer, just moves to the stand where Dean’s IVs are hanging. “This is the good stuff, Dean. I think you’re really going to like this.”

She has to jump a little to get the bag on the hook, which is kind of adorable. She has such a large presence Dean hadn’t even realized how short she is. Once the bag is up, she fiddles with the vials and tubes. She presses some buttons until she seems satisfied and then turns her attention to Dean.

“The doctor finally approved your new pain management regimen. You should start feeling better soon.” 

She seems so proud, Dean thinks she’s the one who came up with the new plan. Castiel told him that she was the best nurse, and Dean believes him. He jots down a thank you and a smiley face, even with as bad as he feels. He trusts her when she says it’ll be better soon.

“Alright. I do have other patients, but I’ll be back to check on you in a little while.” She turns and walks out the door without waiting for a response.

“Well, she’s certainly efficient,” Sam offers.

Dean waves a hand to get Sam’s attention and shows him the board.

_ Cas says she’s the best. _

Sam nods, but his gaze turns shrewd quickly. “So, how do you know Cas?”

Dean groans. He knows Sam’s not going to let this go, but there’s no way he’s writing the whole story out.

_ Ask Benny about the hot doctor.  _ He writes instead.

He knows that getting the two of them together to make fun of him is probably not the greatest idea, but he doesn’t have the energy to deal with it himself. And he knows Sam won’t be letting it go anytime soon.

Sam grabs his phone and is typing up a storm within seconds. Dean’s sure he’ll regret letting Benny tell his story later, but with Sam occupied and quiet it’s easy for him to fall asleep. He spares a second to wonder how quickly the drugs Meg gave him will work, but he thinks the answer might be unnecessary’ as he feels darkness tug at him.

  
  


Dean knows his consciousness fades in and out after that. He remembers Benny coming for a visit, but he doesn’t remember him leaving. He must have fallen asleep before Benny had a chance to say goodbye.

He knows there have been at least two different nurses in to check on him, but he doesn’t remember their names or even what they asked him. 

He knows that Sam was gone at least a couple of the times he woke up. He hopes that means he went home and got some real sleep. He doesn’t know if Castiel ordered his brother to leave like he asked, but someone must have. Sam isn’t the type to think of his own needs while someone he loves is injured.

He does a quick assessment of how he feels. He’s not as out of it as he has been the last few times he’s woken up, and he thinks they must have lowered his dosage. He can feel his injuries like a dull ache, but they aren’t nearly as bad as they were the last time he was fully aware like this.

He hears what sounds like paper turning, and he turns his head that direction.

Dean barely opens his eyes, but it’s enough that he can see the outline of the person sitting beside him, and he knows it’s Cas. 

“You never called me,” he says. He doesn’t know why it’s the first thing that comes to his mind. Maybe it’s because this is the first time he’s been in the room with Castiel without an audience.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been zonked out, and he has a hard time piecing together exactly how many days he’s been here.

“It’s not as though you gave me much time to gather the courage before you showed up here.” Castiel’s voice is intimate and closer than Dean initially thought him to be.

Dean turns his head the rest of the way, and let’s his eyes open completely. Castiel’s bright blue eyes fill his vision.

“How long have I been here?” Dean’s voice is still scratchy, probably just from sleep, but he’s learned his lesson about clearing his throat so he doesn’t bother.

“You’re on day four. Your doctor will probably release you to go home tomorrow.”

Something about that doesn’t sound right, and it takes a moment for Dean to figure out what’s wrong with it. “You’re not my doctor?”

Castiel startles and leans back a bit at the question. “Of course not!”

Dean can’t help but frown at the clear affront in Castiel’s voice, but it doesn’t take him long to figure out why the doctor would take offence. When he does, his lips turn up into a smirk instead.

“Because you’re not allowed to date your patients?” he asks, and watches as the familiar redness spreads across Castiel’s face in response.

“Well, yes. That is one of the reasons.” 

His voice sounds embarrassed, and Dean swells with amusement. Even after all the times it’s happened, making Castiel blush is still one of his favorite things.

“Does that mean you’re actually going to call me when I finally get out of here?”

Castiel’s blush spreads across to his ears. “Of course.”

Dean likes that answer. Of course Castiel was going to call him. “We can go someplace nice, right? I’ve just spent the better part of a week laying in the same place.” 

Castiel looks amused. “You’ll be on bedrest for at least another week, but we can plan something for after that.”

Dean probably could have figured that out for himself considering he’d been unconscious for two days, and spent two more days in a drug-induced haze. That doesn’t mean he’s not going to complain about it.

“Another week? That’s two weeks of laying in bed. We’ll have to do something extra fun to make up for it. How do you feel about drag racing?”

Castiel’s amusement seems to grow. “You’ll probably be on light activity for a couple weeks after that.”

“Aw, man! Why you gotta kill my dreams, Cas?” Dean whines, teasing the man further.

Castiel’s face falls, just like it always does. “I’m sorry.”

This time Dean’s not going to let it get awkward between them, though. Now that they both know they’re interested, there’s no reason to. Before he might have worried that he was pushing too hard, but Dean’s beginning to understand that Castiel is just a very logical person. It’s not that Castiel doesn’t want to do things with Dean, he just knows it’s not really a possibility for a while. It’s become pretty clear that Castiel’s used to his blunt way of talking upsetting people.

“Well, you can still text me right? Keep me company while I’m laid up?” Dean asks with a hopeful note in his voice. He hasn’t had a chance to figure out how to get Castiel out of his own head yet, but he’s willing to try.

Castiel isn’t nearly as bad at this as he seems to think he is. His gaze analyzes Dean for a moment, but he lets the awkward moment pass without comment. “I can do that.”

“And we’ll have so much time to plan, there’s no way our date will be anything less than perfect by the time we get around to it,” Dean adds with a grin.

Castiel’s returning grin is a small, but he looks as relieved as Dean is to see the awkwardness pass. “We will have plenty of time to plan it.”

Dean would normally be content to let the moment last, but he knows it won’t be long before another nurse comes in to check on him, or Sam will show to harass him. His smile grows as he pulls his hand from under the blanket.

“Give me your hand,” he says. 

A rush of joy passes through him as Castiel automatically reaches forward to link their fingers together.

“I suppose having nice hands is a requirement for a doctor.”

Dean thinks Castiel’s blush will never get old.

“You enjoy embarrassing me, don’t you?”

“I really do,” Dean admits with a grin. “And this whole time you thought it was the universe conspiring against you.”

Castiel looks thoughtful for a moment. His eyes clear and he looks right at Dean as he says, “Maybe the universe knew what it was doing all along.”

Dean smiles, glancing down at where their hands are joined. He doesn’t know if he believes in things like destiny, but it’s a little hard to deny it after all the times he’s had to rescue Castiel. As if an outside force has been pushing them together.

“You were the doctor on duty when I got here, weren’t you?”

He’s unsurprised when Castiel nods an affirmative. If something really is out there working to get them together, Dean is grateful.

 


End file.
